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He was not a native of Marbridge, not at all like any of them; it is quite possible that they would have rather looked down upon him; Julia recognised that he barely came up to her mother's standard of a gentleman. He seemed to be a keen business man of the energetic new sort; he also seemed to deal in most things, flowers among them.
His discontent did not take the form of wishing to go back to Marbridge or to join his wife, only in feeling oppressed and misunderstood, and wishing occasionally that he had not been born or had been born rich and of course remained so all his life. He was dissatisfied that evening when the contentment begotten of his work had worn off; he wanted to go to the market town to-morrow.
She could tell him it must not happen, and instruct him how to place obstacles in the way; he would do his best to fulfil her requests, she was sure, even to going down to Marbridge and establishing himself there about the time of her father's intended departure. But with regard to the rest of her mother's plans, or Chèrie's, whichever it might be, there seemed nothing to be done.
The Polkingtons lived at No. 27 East Street, which, as all who know Marbridge are aware, is a very good street in which to live. The house was rather small, but the drawing-room was good, with two beautiful Queen Anne windows, and a white door with six panels. The rest of the house did not matter.
"Julia!" he exclaimed, when he saw her standing on the threshold. "Dear, dear, dear me!" "Yes," Julia said, "it really is I. I'm back again, you see;" and she came in and shut the door. "Bless my soul!" Johnny said; "bless my soul! You're home again!" "On my way home; I can't get to Marbridge to-night very comfortably, and I wanted to see you, so here I am.
He had been kind when she was in trouble; he had not believed her when she had called herself dishonest; he had treated her as an equal, in spite of the affair at Marbridge, and he had asked her to marry him when he thought she was compromised by the holiday in the Dunes. For a moment her mind strayed from the point at issue, to that offer of marriage.
"Don't write as that," her sister told her; "address me as 'Julia Snooks' or anything else you like; I am not particular." Violet did not take this as a serious suggestion; nevertheless, Julia told Mr. Frazer on the platform at Marbridge that she and Violet had been having a christening, and that she was now Julia Snooks. Mr. Ponsonby said it was ridiculous, to which Julia replied
I did what you told me, I really did." Julia was sure of that, but she was also sure now that he had not been a match for her mother. "I went down to Marbridge a week before your father was supposed to be coming to town; I warned him very likely I should have to go away, just as you said and the very day I went to Marbridge he came to town, the very day a week earlier than was talked of."
The Polkingtons were of those people who do not dine. They lunched, though few besides Johnny Gillat, who did not count, had been invited to share that meal with them. They took tea, the daintiest, pleasantest, most charming of teas, as the élite of Marbridge knew; everybody or, rather, a selection of everybody, had had tea with them one time or another.
Polkington, not the Captain; it assisted her in recognising that the end of the campaign had arrived. It said several unpleasant things, and it said them plainly; not the most pleasant to the reader was the announcement that the writer would himself come to Marbridge to look into matters one day that week or the next.
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